


Ours Are The Reckless Hands

by apfelgranate



Series: Line of Durin Bingo Card Shenanigans [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pegging, Post Battle of Five Armies, Sibling Incest, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apfelgranate/pseuds/apfelgranate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lady Tauriel," he says, like he wants to say more, but nothing follows.</p><p>"There's no need to call me 'lady'," she says after a moment. That title had never quite fit.</p><p>"Tauriel," Kíli whispers haltingly, as though he has to get used to the name all over again, and Tauriel finds herself wondering what her name would sound like dragged from his lips on a moan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ours Are The Reckless Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i'll let you be my chaperone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/714052) by [quasikool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quasikool/pseuds/quasikool). 



> Long story short: A few months ago I made a [kinkmeme prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3651.html?thread=6941507), then immediately caved and [artfilled](http://apfelgranate.tumblr.com/post/42211546795/shamelessly-filling-my-own-prompt-this-is-how-low) it. Quasikool proceeded to write amazing fic for it and then my brain _would not shut up again_. This is my version of the events.

It is a gesture of trust as much as a formal visit, as far as Tauriel can tell. Since Thranduil had dispatched his own son to Erebor, the King Under The Mountain has replied in kind, sending his heirs to pay the same honour.

Although she suspects that Legolas did not behave quite as stiffly as the two young dwarves do at the moment. From what she knows of dwarves, their table manners are quite a bit more loutish than elves', and watching the princes eat with a care like they are walking on eggshells provides more amusement than she is easily able to hide.

Legolas, ever the diplomat, keeps up a steady conversation and once the topic of archery crops up, she listens with intent.

"I have not yet had the opportunity to visit the archery ranges," Kíli is saying.

"I could show you, tomorrow. We could train," Tauriel offers. He looks to her with an expression of surprise, but he seems cautiously pleased.

"Thank you. That would be… I'd be honoured," he finishes a little awkwardly.

"I look forward to it," she says easily, but his sudden smile, though small, trips her up. She remembers the first time she saw him and his brother, half-starved and grown wan; the second time, unconscious and covered in blood. Compared to these, anything seems an improvement, but it startles her to find him… captivating. There is something about his face that draws her in, something about the way he is obviously a dwarf, from his small height to his stout hands, yet seems strangely un-dwarfish with his still mostly beardless face.

Tauriel watches him, and she finds that she likes whatever it is that has caught her attention.

\--o--

A quick, deep grin dimples Kíli's cheeks when his arrow sinks into the target's centre. It disappears in pieces, like he has to dismantle it to hide his pride, and he does not quite know how to command his face to do so.

"You've never received any formal training, have you?" Tauriel asks him. He shakes his head, fingers tightening on his bow.

"No, just bits and pieces. I'm mostly self-taught," he replies, looking up at her with a stubborn, defiant set to his mouth. She smiles.

"You're very good," she tells him and watches, feeling very pleased with herself, as his gaze skitters momentarily to the ground, a blush pinking his cheeks and ears. The air is warm and still, and sweat gleams in the hollow of Kíli's throat, his tunic clinging to his broad shoulders, and Tauriel's gaze lingers.

He steps aside to let her take her shot, and she fires four arrows in quick succession so they form a small square around Kíli's arrow. He tries very hard not to appear impressed; the results are slightly parted lips and an adorable frown.

"You're quite good as well," he says after some hesitation and she smirks.

"I will admit my intent was to impress," she says quietly and does not take a step back as Kíli walks closer again.

"Was it," Kíli murmurs. His tongue flickers out to wet his lips and Tauriel has the sudden urge to lick into his mouth, to coax it open and kiss him until they are both short of breath. She does not follow that urge, but she pushes a loose strand of his dark hair back behind his ear, and if the fleeting touch turns into a caress halfway through, he does not seem to mind.

"Lady Tauriel," he says, like he wants to say more, but nothing follows.

"There's no need to call me 'lady'," she says after a moment. That title had never quite fit.

"Tauriel," Kíli whispers haltingly, as though he has to get used to the name all over again, and Tauriel finds herself wondering what her name would sound like dragged from his lips on a moan.

\--o--

There is something strange in Fíli's eyes when Tauriel curls her hand over the skin where Kíli's shoulder meets his neck to speak into his ear. At first she thinks it is anger, or perhaps resentment, but the line of his mouth is too soft, and the slope of his shoulders seems very much like resignation. Kíli meets his brother's gaze before he replies, a fleeting expression of guilt crossing his face. The same softness plays around his mouth, but the glimmer of heat that was in his gaze when he looked at her does not disappear.

 _Oh_ , she thinks.

She watches the brothers, heedless of propriety, and she sees that heat reflected in Fíli's gaze, she sees the deep-seated familiarity with which they move around each other; and it is always around each other. For a few hours she keeps expecting them to collide, so close do they pass by, but they never do.

 _Wanting without taking_ , she thinks. The knowledge should not stoke her desire the way it does; it should not make her want both of them in her bed. But then, Tauriel has never been very good at denying herself the things she wants, nor cared much what she _should_ desire, or more appropriately, what she should _not_.

And if she does not misread Kíli's gazes, the slight, almost-catch of his breath when she touches him, she needs not reach very far to get what she wants.

\--o--

Tauriel has invited them on a hunt, although Kíli suspects she invited Fíli mainly out of courtesy; they intend to take their prey with arrows and not with swords, after all.

The forest still fills him with a quiet sense of unease, dark and shifting as it is, and he can tell Fíli shares his apprehension, but Tauriel moves swiftly and with a strange recklessness, like fear is the thing furthest from her mind. She smiles easily and while they are not yet tracking prey, she and Kíli talk, which distracts him successfully from his unease. She asks him about his bow, if he has used other bow types before, what kind of arrowheads he prefers. He learns that she favours two long daggers for close-range combat, though she knows how to handle a staggering amount of weapons.

"One of the advantages of a long life," she says. "There is plenty of time to practice."

After a while, they find a trail and track it for about an hour until Tauriel suddenly puts her finger to her lips. She cocks her head, listening for a moment, then she holds up two fingers and points behind Kíli. He turns slowly, quietly and draws an arrow from his quiver. They creep up on a slight hill, Fíli several steps behind them, and brace themselves against two trees growing on the crest. Further downhill, two bucks are grazing.

They are downwind and it hides their scent, and as silent as they have been, the deer have not noticed them yet. Tauriel nocks her arrow. She points at Kíli, then at the left buck and raises her eyebrows in question. He nods, mirroring her gesture, but indicates the right buck instead.

With a grin, she raises her bow.

Their arrows fly true, finding their target in flesh and blood. The bucks stagger and Kíli leaps down the slope, sinking a second and third arrow in the flank and chest of his prey before it can escape. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees a glint of metal and then Tauriel darts past him and takes her buck down with brute force, dagger in its neck, blood spilling onto the forest floor.

Kíli's heartbeat stutters a little, his chest growing warm. He is staring, he realises when she looks up and frowns slightly, and then her lips spread into a grin.

"It might not be the most efficient way to secure a kill," she says with the slightest air of apology, "but I like it."

"Kíli!" Fíli snaps suddenly, "Kill the damn deer already."

Kíli fumbles for his hunting knife and hastily puts an end to the buck's weak thrashing. His cheeks are warm with embarrassment as he cleans his knife but when he looks up he finds that Tauriel is surveying the placement of his arrows with appreciation.

"Well done," she says, clapping him on the shoulder. Her hand is slow to withdraw; her thumb skims over the skin of his neck, catching on the collar of his coat and the touch sends a frisson of heat down Kíli's spine. He can feel Fíli's gaze burning holes into his back, but this—this terrifying, raw want for someone not his brother—leaves little space for guilt. It has grown brushfire-quickly and he is sure it will abandon him just as quickly once they depart for Erebor again. Besides, it is not like anything will come of it. Prince though he is, he is a dwarf and Tauriel is an elf and elves do not have relations outside of marriage.

Even if she sometimes looks at him with an expression he believes to be desire.

\--o--

Fíli has left dinner early, his stomach churning with emotions he does not wish to examine too closely. Kíli had sat next to Lady Tauriel, and blushed every time she smiled at him. She had smiled often.

The halls of Thranduil's palace are dimly lit and foliage is creeping in from every crevice. Fíli is not sure if the plants are meant to be part of the buildings, or if the forest is reclaiming them bit-by-bit. In the greenish, lacking light it is an eerie view. When he hears footsteps behind him, he nearly startles. He turns round, expecting to see his brother, but instead it is Tauriel.

His jaw clenches.

"Master Fíli," she calls. "Might I have a word?"

"Of course," he replies, hoping the words don't leave his mouth as biting as they begin.

"You left quite abruptly—"

"I'm not feeling very well," Fíli grits out, before she can continue. The corner of her mouth twitches. He cannot help but feel that she is laughing at him.

"I meant no offense with my questions. I apologise if I was too bold," she says then, sounding not remotely apologetic. "It was mere curiosity on my part."

_Are you yet betrothed?_

Fíli snorts audibly, crossing his arms. "Somehow I find that difficult to believe," he mutters.

"Are you accusing me of harbouring ulterior motives?" she asks, and now she is truly smirking.

He glares balefully at her. It is far from proper behaviour for a prince, one on a diplomatic venture no less, but his insides are coiling hot and painfully, and Tauriel seems only to care for propriety when it suits her. She takes a step closer and he has to crane his neck to look up at her.

"Don't fret, young prince. I have no intentions of snatching your brother from your side."

"I've seen the way you look at him," Fíli growls, "the way _he_ —"

"What way?" Both he and Tauriel freeze at the sound of Kíli's voice, but her face loses the expression of surprise with such swiftness that Fíli can only stare as she turns to his brother, who is standing mere yards away, his brows drawn into a frown. With a wry smile, Tauriel replies, "In a desiring way."

Kíli goes red to the very tips of his ears.

"You—you desire… me?"

Her smile widens. "Very much so," she says, "but in the interest of discretion, perhaps we should continue this conversation in private?"

Kíli's face goes even redder, his cheeks violently ruddy. He nods.

"Kíli," Fíli whispers, almost begging, not even knowing what he is asking for.

"If you fear so for your brother's safety, you could watch," Tauriel offers and Fíli suddenly knows that he is lost. He is not strong enough to deny himself this.

"That is, if you don't mind a chaperone," she adds, directed at Kíli, and Fíli cannot breathe for one terrible moment, for fear that his brother will say he does mind, for fear that he does _not_.

"I—I don't mind," Kíli stammers out, and something in Fíli's mind that he thought he had put to sleep for good wakes, unfurls and grows until it fills his head and heart and lungs.

"In that case, my chambers are this way."

\--o--

Tauriel's chambers are more spacious than Fíli expected. Her bed is large, far larger than it needs to be to fit an elf, even one as tall as her. He tries to avoid looking at it, and at how close Tauriel and Kíli stand after she has locked the doors. His gaze ends up on the ceiling, but when she speaks again, his eyes snap back to them.

"Now, before we speak of anything else, we should make certain we do not misunderstand each other. I want to lie with you," Tauriel states, her eyes dark and burning and unwavering on Kíli's face. "Do you want that as well?"

Kíli swallows heavily, but he nods, all too eagerly. "Yes—but I thought elves didn't…"

"We cannot lie with one another in a way that can create life outside of marriage bonds, but there are other ways to find pleasure. Many, in fact."

"What ways?" Kíli asks, his voice gone thin and breathy.

"You cannot have me, but I could have you." Kíli does not seem to understand at first, until Tauriel crouches and slides her hand over his hip back to his arse, and even though her hand stays above all of Kíli's cloth layers, when she curves her fingers, digging into the cleft between his buttocks, the meaning of her words is unmistakable.

Kíli inhales sharply, and he grins and nods. "I'd like that," he murmurs, and never once so much as glances at Fíli. It galls Fíli, but he forces the stinging jealousy down—and it is jealousy, there is no use in pretending otherwise.

Tauriel rises with a broad smile and takes Kíli's hand, then draws him with her to the bed, seating herself on the edge of it, with him standing in the vee of her legs. The bed is high and Tauriel is very tall, so she still has to bend her head slightly to kiss him. Fíli can feel himself grow warm all over as he watches them kiss, despite his best intentions. Fíli knows that his brother has little experience in these matters, but he responds to Tauriel with eagerness, his hands tangling in her hair. She kisses like she seems to do everything else, with ease and confidence and a quiet, intense hunger. Soft, helpless noises keep escaping Kíli, and although Fíli is almost torn apart with the wish to be the one to whom Kíli holds on, a small part of him cannot help but wonder how it would feel to be kissed like that.

Kíli yelps in surprise when she grabs him by the waist and lifts him up into her lap, though their legs bump in the process. Fíli can hear the distinct clack of teeth on teeth, and Tauriel lets out a pained chuckle.

"I apologise," she says, "I'm not used to bodies of your size."

"I'm tall," Kíli grumbles, then adds quietly, "for a dwarf."

"Taller than your brother, certainly," she agrees, and Fíli cannot tell if the look she sends him then is intended to be mocking. Kíli laughs softly, a sound that turns brittle halfway through and ends with a ragged gasp as Tauriel tugs on his hair and bends her head down to his chest. Fíli cannot see what she does exactly, but Kíli's grip on her shoulders tightens, his head dropping.

"Good?"

"I think so," he gasps. "Do it again?" Tauriel makes a pleased, rumbling noise and tugs him close, leans backwards and twists and rolls and then Kíli is on his back underneath her, legs splayed wide around her knees, his feet just hanging off of the bed. The way he looks up at her, wide-eyed and wanton, has something ugly twist in Fíli's stomach, but he forces it down. This is not about him.

"After we get you naked, hm?" Tauriel is saying as she opens Kíli's tunic.

"What about you?"

In response, she begins to undo the laces of her dress, her arms working easily behind her back. Kíli fumbles to open his boots and toes them off before moving to shed his tunic. Fíli swallows heavily as his brother's skin is bared, his fingers twitching when he curls his hands into fists at his sides. Soon the both of them are naked, and Tauriel's back is a smooth, broad expanse of brown skin, her muscles shifting as she crouches over Kíli and pulls on his hair until his entire body arches into hers. This time Fíli can see what it is that drives the ragged noise from his brother's throat; Kíli pants before her mouth even descends upon his chest, his arms flailing up to clutch at her back, and Fíli's gaze snaps to Tauriel's hand in his hair, the sure grip of it.

Kíli has always enjoyed it when Fíli ran his hands through his dark, perpetually loose hair, and Fíli bites his tongue to keep the sound that tries to ascend his throat inside. It proves a futile effort for it escapes as a traitorous whine; though it is less damning than the hardness growing between his legs.

Tauriel looks up and looks at him and she smiles, dangerously knowing. She bends down to press a quick kiss to Kíli's belly. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

She moves from the bed, shamelessly unconcerned with her nakedness, while Kíli's legs draw closed with what appears to be sudden embarrassment. Fíli should avert his gaze but he cannot force his eyes to move, transfixed by the sight of Kíli's heated body, and when Kíli's expression changes into something downright daring, his legs falling open, Fíli's knees weaken. Kíli's prick lies in the curve of his hip, hardened and ruddy. Fíli's throat is dry.

A dull clap yanks their attentions to the side, where Tauriel stands over a wooden chest. She straightens and as she walks back towards the bed, Fíli sees that she holds a glass vial in one hand and a tangle of leather straps and something like carved wood in the other. She deposits the items on the bed and seats herself between Kíli's thighs again.

"Here, come sit on the bed, Fíli," she calls, "but take off your boots."

Part of him screams not to do it, that it would only lead to disaster, but both she and Kíli are regarding him with such an expectant expression that his eagerness to be closer wins easily. It is nigh embarrassing, how quickly he complies with her words, and if it were anyone else bearing witness, he would feel a distinct shame at that.

Fíli struggles out of his boots and sits down on the edge of the bed; well out of reach because it is one thing to watch, but quite another to touch, and he and Kíli are toeing too many lines already. Kíli has propped himself up on his elbows and is considering the items Tauriel produced from the chest with slight apprehension. The piece of wood is carved into the likeness of an erect prick, lacquered, and it is… big. It must not seem so to an elf, Fíli supposes, but to a dwarf…

"I'll prepare you well, don't worry," Tauriel murmurs, sliding a kiss against Kíli's mouth. She kisses his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, peppering slow, sucking kisses down the length of his torso until she reaches his cock.

Kíli's entire body jolts when she takes him into her mouth, though she remains unfazed, having curled her arms over his thighs to pin him. Fíli almost holds his breath to hear every bit of the desperate, heaving gasps Kíli makes, the sudden mewl he lets out. Tauriel has shifted, her left hand pressing down on Kíli's belly while the other has moved between his legs. She keeps sucking him, slower now, until he spasms and moans, hard enough that his voice stutters in the middle of it.

Fíli knows what Kíli sounds like when he comes, an unavoidable knowledge considering the close quarters they inhabited for most of their lives, but his memory delivers him stifled sounds only, while this—this is loud and unabashed and witnessing it sends Fíli's pulse racing. His cock aches in sympathy, the friction of his trousers almost too much, but he refuses to touch himself. Tauriel sits up and watches the way Kíli's chest rises and falls sharply, the occasional tremor of aftershocks running through him, with an expression of utter delight. The blush has spread all the way down to his belly, his mouth still open and panting, and his face dazed and slack.

"You're relaxed now," she says, "try to keep it that way, all right?"

"Tauriel," Kíli breathes. He reaches for her, blindly, and she chuckles and kisses him again, hard and deep.

The glass vial contains oil, which Fíli had suspected, and she coats two fingers with it and hooks one of Kíli's legs onto her shoulder. From where he is sitting, Fíli cannot see her hand move but it scarcely matters because Kíli's reactions are more than enough to read her movements. He twitches and sighs, his brows drawing into a slight frown of confusion. Tauriel scoots closer and his thighs ease farther apart; she is watching Kíli's face as well as her shoulder shifts, the muscles in her upper arm tensing.

Suddenly his eyes fly open and he—he squeaks, really.

"That's the mark," Tauriel whispers, grinning broadly. Sweat is gathering in the dip of her collarbones, between her breasts. Kíli's chest glints with it as well. Fíli clenches his eyes shut, breathing deeply. _This is not about you_.

"Oh," Kíli breathes. " _Oh_."

She moves quicker after that, and soon Kíli's hips writhe in an obvious attempt to take her fingers deeper, his cock grown thick again, his hands clutching at the sheets. He whimpers continually, and twice already he has begged for more. Fíli tries not to imagine what Kíli's body would feel like, stretched around his fingers.

"Please," Kíli whines, "take me, please," and Tauriel lets out a helpless, throaty sound and withdraws from him.

"Get on your hands and knees, then," she says, her voice gone rough. She attaches the wooden prick to the leather harness, ties the straps around her waist and thighs and pours oil over the wood. Kíli is looking back at her over his shoulder, his throat moving with harsh swallows. She moves behind him, her knees on either side of his hips, and as she curves above him, one arm wrapped around his waist and kisses his neck, right under his ear, Fíli's chest tightens painfully.

"Breathe with me, Kíli." He nods wordlessly, his eyes flit to meet Fíli's for a split second, and then his lids fall shut.

\--o--

"You're doing so well," Tauriel soothes, and Kíli thinks the kiss she presses to his ear is meant to be gentle but her teeth meet his skin instead, her breath rushing from her mouth with a sound like storm-swept trees. He can feel the hard thud of her heartbeat against his upper back, their bodies moulded together as they are, the length of her curled over him and inside him, spearing him.

He cannot help but whimper, even though it is not—part of it _is_ pain, it has to be, yet it does not feel like pain; it feels like pleasure, too sharp and too much to be anything but overwhelming.

She withdraws slightly, then tugs at his hips, easing back inside, and noise pours from his throat, his arms collapsing under him with the sudden surge of sensation, too-much and not-enough; yet her hands catch him, a firm steadying pressure against his chest and belly.

"Do you need to hold on to something?" she asks and he nods desperately.

"Yes, please—"

"Fíli, come here." The words are like a shower of ice water, dragging Kíli abruptly from his pleasure-daze, yet they do nothing to curb his arousal. His brother is staring at them—at _him_ —with wide, dark eyes, his skin ruddy and his lips chapped and red like he has bitten them too roughly, his hands clenched into fists on his thighs.

"Help your brother," Tauriel whispers, like this is something she can command. Like this is something _permissible_.

 _Brother_ , Kíli thinks. _He's my_ _brother, we can't_ — _touch_ …

Oh, but they want to. Kíli cannot remember when his affections grew into something wicked, when the urge to embrace his brother became the urge to do so naked, but it has been decades; decades in which they had made their peace with it, for they are brothers and princes and they could never allow themselves to fall into this. Though it was an angry, bitter peace that ate away at Kíli, he had resigned himself to it.

He had, until Tauriel repeats, "Fíli, come here and help your brother," with a luring edge to her voice, and Fíli, looking pained and guilt-ridden and so, so yearning, comes without resistance as Kíli reaches for him. Fíli's hands tremble and Tauriel guides them to Kíli's ribs, then nudges at Kíli's arms until he wraps them about Fíli's neck.

Her next thrust is harder.

It knocks the breath from his lungs, his hands clutching at Fíli's shoulders, and his face ends up buried in the crook of Fíli's neck. Kíli can feel his brother's rabid pulse thrum under his mouth.

"Is this better?" Tauriel asks him, and her voice has turned into a jagged thing, rasping over Kíli's skin.

"Yes," he manages, shaky, "keep moving." Fíli _trembles_ against him, his hands slipping over Kíli's ribs. Kíli's skin tingles with it.

"Fuck me," he says, because he wants Tauriel to touch that spot inside him that she found so surely with her fingers, because he wants to feel Fíli shiver again, like he just could not help it, and he is given his wish in full, twice, thrice over, again and again.

Tauriel's hands are restless, skidding from his hips, the insides of his thighs, to his belly, chest, neck, knocking against Fíli's, while she takes him with long, slow strokes and Fíli's chest keeps hitching, shuddering, small half-strangled gasps fleeing his throat. Kíli lets his pleasure take him, lets it rip him along like a landslide, lets every moan and whimper that wants to escape him go without a fight because he wants Fíli to hear (he wants Tauriel to hear), he wants them to _know_ —

His mouth smears along Fíli's cheek.

Tauriel has slid deep, and he is so, so close, can feel himself hanging by a thread, her body pressed impossibly close, her mouth sliding against his ear while Fíli's breath hits his own lips, and she pants, quietly, "I don't mind," her hand on him sudden and agonisingly sweet, "I don't mind if you kiss."

Kíli's hands are already in his brother's hair, and he has always been reckless.

It is barely a kiss.

Fíli says his name like he is begging and there is too little air in Kíli's lungs already, but Fíli's touch becomes a frantic caress and Kíli gets a taste of his lips, bitten and warm and wet, and if the noise he makes when he is shattered are both their names…

Who would ever learn of it? Who could know that Kíli keeps kissing his brother far longer than he is lost in his release, the way Fíli's entire body is wracked with shudders and he flinches away, the tell-tale jerk of his hips; who could know the spark that kindles in Kíli's belly when Tauriel folds her arms closely around him, her muscles straining, and abruptly her tension releases and she makes a noise, a drawn-out, rolling thing of a moan—who could know how wide Fíli's eyes are in that moment, how bright, how deep Kíli's desire runs?

\--o--

"I'm going to take a bath. I'd ask you to join me, but…" Tauriel shrugs, one corner of her mouth twisting up into a smile. "The springs aren't exactly private. Though you're welcome to stay the night, if you want to."

Kíli does not think he could move from the bed if he wanted to, so he accepts the offer before Fíli can decline, proper heir of Durin that he his.

"We will, thank you," he says, loud enough to cover Fíli's aborted stammer. Kíli finds it difficult to look at his brother, now that the frenzy of sex has left him and his sweat is drying on his skin—skin Fíli was touching with decidedly non-fraternal intent not too long ago. He is left reeling from it, elated and confused and dreading the morning when they will be forced to be merely brothers again. It is easier to watch Tauriel instead, he finds, who appears to be utterly satisfied and at ease with the fact of what transpired. She dresses herself lazily, only bothering to do up half the laces on her dress and foregoing her shoes altogether. As she walks towards the door, she suddenly hesitates. Kíli frowns, until she turns around and there is a gleam in her eyes that promises wickedness.

Kíli's heartbeat jumps a little. He wants another kiss, he realises. He wants Fíli's mouth, to kiss it red and bruised, and he wants Tauriel to kiss him as well.

"Fíli," Tauriel says, and Kíli struggles not to let his sudden disappointment show. "Could you do me a favour?"

"Of—of course." Fíli sounds desperately formal, an impression quite ruined by his still-ruddy cheeks and his rumpled clothes. She steps close to him and, very slowly and carefully, cups his face between her hands and tilts his head up. Suddenly Kíli's chest feels too tight, the air squeezed from his lungs.

"Give your brother a kiss for me," she whispers and places her mouth against his. Fíli makes a soft, small noise as their lips meet. His hand clutches at her elbow and what started as a chaste press of lips turns into a nipping, twisting, _hungry_ mess. Kíli's heart beats in his throat, a prickling heat banking up deep in his belly. It ends as quickly as it began and Tauriel is smirking when she draws away again. Fíli is staring at her with wide eyes, his breath coming fast and shallow.

"I'll be back in an hour," she murmurs, turns around and then she is gone, the door closing behind her with an ominous clank, and they are left staring at each other.

Kíli watches Fíli's throat move as he swallows. Part of him wants to pretend that they committed no offense tonight, that they did not cross the line they swore they never would; when in truth they leapt across, impelled by Tauriel's hand. But Fíli is looking at him, his expression like the one their uncle wore when he spoke of Erebor, and what is one more step in the wrong direction?

"I think you owe me a kiss," Kíli says, his voice only slightly unsteady.

There is a moment of stillness, of a breath caught and held, and then Fíli's weight dents the mattress.


End file.
